Finding Routine in “Good Morning”
With a bedroom floor full of dirty clothes, a half-eaten sandwich on my night table, and a bed covered in dog-paged books, I sat in front of my computer and said to my therapist, “Summer just started, but I already want school to start again.”
Last semester, I was taking 18-credits and begging for the school year to be over with. Assignments toured over my head; I was falling behind on reading; and I barely had any time for myself. Fighting with my computer when it was too slow to load, as if it could hear me and obey my commands, suddenly felt like a normal part of my routine. My body was riddled with stress, and every thought came with an aggressive edge. There wasn’t an ounce of peace inside of me. But I always seem to forget the madness once I’m a couple of months out from the end of the academic year.
As my thoughts started to tumble out of my brain while my therapist patiently listened, I found the root of the problem. My mind craves routine to regulate itself, and when I don’t have routine, I feel lost. Walking around without a To-Do list feels like I’ve been untethered from myself. In that moment, I came to the realization that it wasn’t truly school I was craving, it was the regularity of schedule that I needed. I didn’t miss fighting with my computer, I missed myself.
Without routine, my bedroom turned into a storm of piled up laundry and dirty plates on my desk and dead tulip petals that made their way to the floor to rot. My environment has always been a reflection of my brain, so when I’ve noticed I have no clean clothes and there’s mold growing in one of my mason jars, I know something has turned sour. After I talked to my therapist for an hour about routine, I spent the rest of the week thinking about a schedule that would work best for me. It certainly wasn’t the built up stress I desired, but rather a routine that looked more like a ritual
“I use block scheduling, especially when the school year starts,” said my therapist (she’s also a professor). “When emails start piling up, it’s so easy for me to get distracted from my other responsibilities because I’ll just check my email, but with my block scheduling, I’ll designate two hours to emails, and stop it at that. I’ll do that with paperwork and things I need to do for my kids. That’s how my day goes.”
I told her I liked the idea of it. As a writer who's half-way through writing a debut novel, I’ve always craved a regular schedule designated for writing, but what about the rest of my day? Recently, I’ve been working heavily on healing habits that were born out of trauma, habits that were no longer serving me. I set aside time for reading books and listening to podcasts that have been helping me on my healing journey. Every night before bed, (most of the time), I get everything down on the page so I can organize the thoughts that start swarming the second my head hits the pillow. So, how could I create a routine that consisted of self-love and discipline? By starting with my morning.
Every morning, I wake up and treat myself like the people I love. I say, “Good morning, Cerissa,” and it feels revolutionary to say my own name out loud, as if I am my own best friend. Hearing my voice say the soft sounds in my name feels like love to me. Because I am my best friend, my best love, and being connected to myself means treating myself the same way I would treat my loved ones. Every great routine is going to start with acknowledging how human I am. I say “Good morning, Cerissa” and ask myself how I’m feeling. The rest of the morning follows from there. The other day, I woke up feeling anxious, and I told myself that, and we made a game plan, me and myself. I took fifteen minutes to lie still in meditation, and when my nerves were still a little wacky, I took one of the herbal supplements that helps me calm down, and I drank my favorite tea.
I believe mornings are especially important in routine. Just because I wake up feeling anxious or angry, doesn’t mean my day is ruined or I have to pretend it’s a good day. Sometimes, I feel terrible. Simple as that. But if I can wake up everyday and start my morning with the gentle question to myself, “How are you feeling?” I’m already off to a good start. The second that I feel I don’t have the power to ask myself that question, I know I’ve lost touch with myself.
At first, it might feel weird to talk to yourself; it certainly felt strange for me. My grandmother used to talk to herself all the time, and I used to tease her for it. She had encouraged me to try it, and I shrugged her off, but now, talking to myself is the most important tool I have in holding a routine of self-love and discipline. When you try it, you might start laughing. I most definitely did. I thought: “I sound ridiculous.” But I’ve been talking to myself for awhile now, and I notice that when I’m not connected to myself in that way, that’s when my bedroom turns into a nightmare and my thoughts start to go haywire.
Routine doesn’t have to be concrete, actually, I feel it’s best that I base my routine off that one simple question in the morning. It’s like building a cake somedays. A little more sugar one day, a little less another. If I wake up and feel like I need to be alone, I take the day to be alone, even if it means cancelling a plan with friends. There’s never going to be one right answer. When we start leading our lives with a routine that serves us, we have the power to feel more connected to our needs, and inherently, ourselves.
I don’t need an 18-credit semester to feel whole. I need to be checking in with myself and nurturing a routine that’s born out of self-appreciation. This doesn’t mean all of my stress is going to magically evaporate; it just means I’m going to be better equipped to deal with my stress. With my therapist’s block scheduling, she’s holding boundaries with herself. I’m still trying to work towards that type of strength. Whether it’s reaching for my phone in the morning or overworking myself with school, someone needs to be able to tell me when I need to stop, and frankly, the only person with enough power to do that is always going to be me. I’m working on a routine that adheres to my boundaries and that always starts with, “Good morning, Cerissa.” Today, I hope you have the power to ask yourself how you’re feeling, out loud and unapologetically. I dare you to say, “Hello.”